


Gambling isn't for losers

by cozmopolitan



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: AU, Label AU, Labelau, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozmopolitan/pseuds/cozmopolitan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[A/N: This fic is old and therefore I have deemed it to be absolute shit. Read with caution.]</p><p>Thomas Bangalter, a successful businessman in the record label business, and as well a great gambler, has an easy life.  He has the money, the car, and the apartment he's always dreamed of.  However, the only pain in his side is his love life, and one of his only friends.  On the flipside, the sex-crazed, carefree Guy-manuel de Homem Christo lives a life filled with sex and money.  Thomas seems to be jealous of Guy-man's love life, but Guy-man never seems apt to sharing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heart-shaped teardrops

**Author's Note:**

> so this is a Label AU fanfiction. this is one of my favourite AUs, and i'm pretty sure it was created by hamhammers (i'm not 100% sure on this one, as i do not know the story behind it. if anyone could send me an ask on tumblr confirming who created it, i'd be really thankful).  
> to summarize this particular AU, it's basically a personification of guy-man and thomas's respective record labels. it's a really neat AU and i couldn't resist, so i succumbed and wrote a fanfiction for it.

“Roulé!” called a voice from outside of Thomas’s penthouse apartment.  He was sitting down in an upholstered fancy armchair, reading the daily newspaper.  Cigar in mouth, he puffed out smoke as he heard the unfortunately familiar voice of his friend.  He knew he'd be asking for money, and he really wasn't in the mood to give him any.  Guy-man was as rich as he was.  Why couldn't he fund his own habits?  These questions remained perpetually unanswered.  It's not as if he didn't want to support his friend.  Oh, no.  He just didn't want to indirectly pay for his drugs, sex, and food.   

_Guy-manuel…_ he groaned, snapping out of the thought he was deeply lost in.  He continued ignoring his friend’s voice, his nose buried deep in the newspaper.  He wasn't going to stop reading something that interested him just because his shit-for-brains friend wanted something. 

“Roulé, honey, are you in there?” the voice was getting louder and more annoying.  It was absolutely cacaphonous to Thomas at that moment, and nearly unbearable as well. 

“Stop calling me Roulé,” Thomas scoffed, holding the newspaper closer to his face.  Knocks sounded against his door, and they seemed… hurried.  As if he wanted something, really badly.  “If you stop calling me by that lewd and unwanted name, I’ll answer the door.” 

“But it’s a cute nickname!” replied the muffled voice.  “You know I love you, Roulé!”

“God damnit, putain, just call me Thomas. I know you want in.”

The voice all of a sudden became less annoying.  A _lot_ less annoying.

“Oh, I want in, but in more way than one.”

Thomas put his cigar down in the ashtray and coughed, holding his fist close against his chest.  He shook his head and put the newspaper on his lap, staring at the door in bewilderment.  “You, what?”  he couldn't believe it.  Was he being flirted with?

“Can I borrow your body for a minute?” his voice became more and more alluring as he spoke, the sweet and sensual words seemingly leaking through the cracks of the door and into Thomas's ears.  Thomas's cheeks flushed red, but he tried to avoid reacting.  Damn, he just _couldn't_ help it, his friend had such an arousing voice.  He sounded as if he was perpetually stuck in a porno film.  A cheesy one, albeit.  But that did not take away from the fact that his voice was arousing him so much. 

Thomas sat up erect in his chair and he sighed, folding the newspaper and placing it on the dark wooden coffee table.  He stood up and adjusted his tie, preparing for a possible _rendez-vous_ with his friend.  He swallowed hard, feeling a hard lump in his throat.  Slowly he approached the door, unlocking it.  Just as he was pulling the door aside to let him in, Guy-man burst into the room, howling with laughter.  The heart-shaped tear drops that streamed down his soft, youthful cheeks gleamed as he laughed, and Thomas was not impressed.  He stood with his hands on his hips, scowling unamusedly at his friend's attempt to completely fuck with him.

“Haha! I was just fucking with you.  What’s up, man?” he held up his hand, trying to initiate a high five.  Thomas glared at his hand, eyes darting back to Guy-man, discounting the gesture.

“I’m fine, _Orgasm_.” his voice remained emotionless, but had an annoyed tinge to it. “I haven’t done much today, until you decided to show up and completely disturb the peace."

“Hey man, my nickname is Crydamoure. Not ‘orgasm’.” he laughed harder at Thomas’s comment, which was initially supposed to be demeaning and nothing more.  Thomas was the only one getting annoyed, and he really wished it was the other way around. Guy-man turned to the moping Thomas and bit his lower lip, giving him a look that screamed “fuck me”.  His eyes lowered into a typical "bedroom eyes" position, and he smiled a small, yet sexy smile.  This mood change was typical of Guy-man, and there was no way to stop him from doing it.  It just happened.  This man was either horny or crying over something stupid.  There was no other moods or emotions Guy-man could express besides those two.

“Why so sad, Mr. Gambler? Money got you down?” he placed his hands against Thomas’s chest, slowly moving them down to his waist, his thumbs resting against his hip bones.  Thomas squirmed with his touch, mouthing the words “stop it” constantly.  He didn’t really want him to stop, though.  He was just afraid that Guy-man was being a fucking tease, as usual.  But he wanted him to keep going.  Oh, the things he was imagining right now.  How he wished Guy-man would just-

Guy-man kept interrupting his thoughts.  He spoke too much.  However, when he stopped zoning out, he saw Guy-man in front of him, on his toes, kissing his neck slowly.  The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and slowly the shivers spread to his whole body.  Thomas moaned softly under his breath, biting his lip, trying to get himself to stop.  He was not going to show weakness. 

“Stop looking so concerned, enjoy the moment,” Guy-man breathed hotly into his ear. He placed his lips against his neck and began to tease his skin with his lips, and man, Thomas was getting really aroused at this point.  He shivered, the hair on his body standing up on end.  Please, Guy-man, keep going.  Don’t stop.

He couldn't stop showing weakness.  Thomas had lost, and Guy-man won with his touch.

He felt a particular tightness in his pants, and he could feel Guy-man’s lower body grind against his.  Pure bliss, this was just pure bliss.

Guy-man pulled back, arms wrapped around his neck.  “Hey, hun,” he whispered seductively. “Could I borrow some money?”

At this point, Thomas was in a trance.  He was so deeply in love with Guy-man at the moment that he could barely speak and just listen to the sweet nothings that the man breathed into his ears.  Even if what he was whispering  _wasn't_ exactly sweet nothings.

“How much…?” Thomas replied, the words slurring out of his mouth, cheeks red from arousal.

“100 dollars is all I’ll need,” Guy-man bit his bottom lip, giving Thomas the most charming look he could.  Thomas’s eyes stared only at Guy-man’s face, and he observed the perfect features of his visage.  Perfect eyes, perfect lips, he wanted to kiss him so badly.

“Yeah… go ahead…” Guy-man pulled the seduced Thomas close to him and slipped his hand into his back pocket.  He pulled back and waved the removed object in front of his friend’s face, Guy-man’s eyes spinning like a hypnodisc.  He had this man under his spell.  Everything was working according to plan.   

“Wait... can I just… take the whole thing, dear?” he opened his mouth a little and licked his lips and teeth slowly, his heart-shaped tears slowly trickling down his face.  

“Anything for you…” Thomas groaned, leaning in closer to his friend.  He wanted to fucking kiss him.  Guy-man, stop teasing.  Let me kiss you.  As their lips got closer, and as Thomas readied himself for a sweet makeout session, Guy-man pushed him away and waggled his finger in his face.  

“Non, non.  Not right now.  I’m going out ‘shopping’ for a little bit, if you get what I mean.” Guy-man giggled and winked at Thomas.

“Alright, it’s no problem.” said the hypnotised Thomas.  Guy-man kissed the man's neck one more time, and watched as he shivered with the soft touch of his lips.  What a sap. 

“Goodbye, Roulé!” said Guy-man, dismissing himself from the room, wallet in hand.  As the door slammed shut, Thomas snapped out of his trance.  He looked around, confused.  What he could deduce was that:

1\. He was hard as fuck.   
2\. He was sweating. 

and 3...

3\.  His wallet was gone.

"Did you seriously take my wallet Guy-man?" Thomas said out loud.  He huffed annoyedly, standing up straight once again.  Running his hands through his hair, he scowled.

Guy-man.  You conniving bastard.

 


	2. You spent my money at a strip club?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i'm posting this almost right after i posted the other chapter.. i had already had this written. it's kinda short but eh. that's just how it's gonna work for now B)

“Agh, pick up the phone, Guy-man.  Please.” Thomas groaned impatiently to himself, his foot tapping against the floor.  He had called at least 30 times beforehand, and still hadn’t gotten a response.  It kept going straight to his voicemail, and each time he'd have to hear the irritatingly cocky message Guy-man had set.

" _Hey there! You've reached the inbox of Crydamoure! If you're wondering why I haven't picked up yet, it's probably because I'm out having a good time!_ "

It was as if hearing this voicemail message was the literal definition of failure.  And disappointment.  Fuck, man.  It's so easy to just pick up a phone.  All you need are minute muscle movements.  Thomas would have understood if Guy-man was at a meeting or recording music or something.  This fucker was probably out getting high and partying.  Just pick up the goddamn phone, for fucks sakes.

After a few more call attempts, Guy-man finally picked up. 

“H-hello?” Guy-man said, his voice not what it normally would be.  He sounded nervous and distraught, like a frightened, lost child.  Thomas was angered though, and the fact that Guy-man did not sound like his normal self didn't phase him.  

“Listen, why the fuck did you take my wallet?” Thomas growled into the receiver, his teeth bared.  “What the fuck did you do with my money?”

“The stripper called me ugly!” Thomas could hear the sound of his friend sobbing and wailing over the phone, mumbling words he couldn’t quite understand.  It sounded as if he was crying over someone insulting a certain part of him.  

Guy-man cried softly into the phone, trying to calm himself down.  Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his lips quivered as he grieved to Thomas over the phone. 

“What are you trying to say, Guy-man?" 

“She.. didn’t like my hair…” 

“Wait a minute, you spent my money on a strip club?!” Thomas was angry.  He was fuming. "Which one? Are you drunk? High? Give me details! Now!"  Thomas was more worried about his money and less for his friend.  It wasn't the best way for Thomas to think, but he was afraid to lose money in any way.  This is why he was a good gambler.  The very fear of him being able to suddenly lose all of his cash frightened him into being excellent at fucking with people.

“What if they all think I’m ugly… I’m a regular customer! I can’t show my face here anymore…” the sobbing got more and more pathetic, and Thomas only got more and more annoyed.  He could imagine his friend standing out there, probably in the rain, sitting on a park bench because “Oh my god, someone didn’t like my hair, I better fucking cry because I’m a huge drama queen”. And now he was sitting here wasting his time and listening to his friend blubber pathetically to him over the phone.

No, he was probably outside of the strip club. And he knew he was a regular customer at a specific one, named Le Knight Club, which was located conveniently in the downtown area, right near Guy-man's apartment. He wouldn't have been able to just walk away and cry in the middle of the street. He knew his friend would get lost, and Guy-man wasn't really the best in-city navigator.

“Listen, you little shit.  Where’s my money?”

“Do you think I’m ugly too now?”

Thomas rubbed his fingers against his creased forehead, sighing loudly. “No, just give me my money back and everything will be fine.  Stop doing that, man.  It's not cool.”

“I treat you the best I can and you treat me like shit! You don’t care about me!”

“I care about you, stop your blubbering right now.  Where are you?” Thomas picked up his car keys and pulled open his apartment door, making sure to lock it behind him.  He waited a short minute for his friend to calm down, and asked the question again.

“You know where I am…” the miserable voice of Guy-manuel whined over the phone.  

And he did.

Beep beep beep.

 

The call ended.

 


	3. Seduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah there's some actual PLOT in here (kinda).  
> ENJOY!

“So tell me, what exactly did you do after you… hypnotised me?” Thomas questioned Guy-man, who was curled up in a ball in the front seat of his car.  He was shaking and crying, and refused to talk for most of the car ride back.  Thomas found himself often forcing words out of him by poking his waist gently.  Still, even with the physical prodding, he still refused to speak. 

“You’re not going to talk about it?” he continued, getting more concerned.  Thomas could understand, nobody wants to have their physical appearance insulted by a random person.  But seriously, this guy got offended way too easily, especially for a 25-year-old man.  Thomas himself wouldn't cry over such menial and small matters.  Him, being 28, knew how to deal with criticisms towards his image.  He wouldn't cry like a baby, that's absolutely ridiculous.  

Thomas drove down into the parking garage of his apartment and parked in his spot, switching off the engine and putting the keys into his coat pocket.  “Do you need a minute?”

His friend nodded, and Thomas stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him, leaving his friend alone. He walked over to the door that lead into the main floor of the apartment and leaned his shoulder against the wall, peeking into the window of the dashboard.  Guy-man appeared to be sobbing into his hands, rubbing his eyes gently with his fists.  His hair could be seen between his fingers.  He couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, and he slouched, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets.  At the same time, however, that bastard took his money.  And this wasn't the first time either.

Guy-man once insisted they should drink together.  Now, Thomas wasn't one for heavy drinking, but social drinking was more of his thing. Instead of him and Guy-man getting drunk together and having a good time, Guy-man stole a bunch of his gold and sold it for cash on the streets.  What a great friend he was. 

The weirdest thing was that Thomas couldn't hate him.  As much as Guy-man stole from him, teased him, belittled him, and made him angry, he couldn't bring himself to despise him.  As hard as he tried, he still felt an immense amount of love towards him.  Secretly, he loved him a little more than just as a friend.  He hated being outwardly loving in front of Guy-man, in fear of embarrassment or even rejection.  Guy-manuel, his nickname being “Crydamoure” (literally meaning "cry of love"), was the literal embodiment of flirtation.  He had the moves.  Thomas did not, and he was afraid he’d look like an ass while trying to seduce the very master of seduction.

He walked over to the passenger’s door and opened it slowly.  He held out a hand to the weeping man and forced a smile.  “Come on, Guy-man.  Let’s go.  We’re going inside.”  Guy-man removed his hands from his face, his heart-shaped tears flowing from the corners of his eyes, and smiled back.  Thomas felt bad, because he knew that smile was definitely not forced like his was.  Grunting softly, he held Thomas’s hand gently, and Thomas helped him get out of the car.  Closing the door behind him, they walked towards the door that lead inside to the ground floor of the apartment.  Thomas lightly tapped a card against a sensor, and the door unlocked, letting them in.

Thomas lived in an upscale apartment.  Being in the city, he was unable to find an actual house, so an apartment would suffice, as long as it was upscale enough for him. The carpets were decorated with red and gold regal patterns, and their shoes made a soft squelch noise as they walked across the carpet and over to the elevator.  A chandelier hung from the ceiling of the main lobby.  The ever-blubbering Guy-man seemed to be in love with the shiny gold decor of the building, and Thomas noticed he had a big, goofy smile on his face.  The mood lighting in the room seemed to light up Guy-man's bright eyes, and Thomas smirked, looking forwards.

As they rode the elevator up to Thomas’s apartment, he put an arm around his short friend.  Guy-man leaned into him and closed his eyes.  Thomas then realized that showing love towards Guy-man wasn't that hard in the end.  He needed to start slowly, build up trust, and then he could be fully amorous with him.  He wasn't exactly pursuing a relationship, but he was more so pursuing the ability to be close with the freedom-loving Guy-manuel.

Thomas, arm still around Guy-man, led him to his apartment.  He unlocked the door and, to his surprise, Guy-man hugged him tightly.  He reached over, closing the door behind them with one hand and hugged him back.

“Thanks.” was the only word that escaped Guy-man’s lips, and Thomas opened his mouth to ask for his wallet back.  He stopped himself from continuing.  Now wasn’t the time.

"You can hang out here for a while, if you'd like," Thomas stifled a laugh, holding his forearm up to his mouth. "Just don't... take anything, okay?"

"Sure thing, mon ami!" the friendly, normally and most likely horny demeanor of his friend was starting to come back. He was feeling better, and Thomas was happy for him.

Guy-man walked over to the nicely decorated couches and plopped down on one of them, failing to remove his shoes. Thomas cringed, but he thought he'd let it be for now, he didn't want to instill rules on his emotionally compromised friend at the moment. He turned on the TV and laid there, watching intently. Scrolling through the channels, he stopped at a soap opera show and began to watch it, getting into the show almost immediately.

 Thomas sighed and removed his coat, throwing it onto the one of the granite counters of his kitchen. He looked around the area, adjusting his sweater vest. Opening the fridge, he looked for something for them to eat.  His fridge had been recently stocked, so he was sure there'd be something for them to at least munch on.  He wasn't expecting Guy-manuel to stay for very long, but if he was, he would make sure to show off his cooking skills. "You want anything?"

 "Eh?" responded the zoned-out Guy-manuel, mouth agape.

 " _Crydamoure_ , you want something to drink?" he said, a certain edge added to his voice as he repeated himself.

 "Ah, yeah. Get me a beer or something."

 "You are _not_ going to drink in your current state."

 "Why not?" he replied, in a sing-song voice. Leaning over the back of the couch, his eyes swirled as he stared at Thomas, in attempt to seduce the man. Thomas looked away and growled to himself, mumbling a few words Guy-man wouldn't be able to hear.  God, he was so sick of Guy-man trying to manipulate him all the time.  He was just trying to show a little bit of concern for his friend.  Nothing more than that, if he hadn't been sobbing like a huge fucking baby he would have let him drink.  Thomas knew how unstable his friend could be at times.

 "Stop doing that," he grumbled, snapping out of his thoughts, going back to rummage through the fridge. "Do you like soda?"

"Depends, what kind?"

"Just... Cola." Thomas could feel his face burning as he persistently tried to avoid his friend's eyes. He was just so goddamn alluring.

Guy-man slouched into the couch, huffing despondently.  “Alright, Cola it is, _mom_.”  Thomas groaned and removed a can from the bottom part of the fridge, tossing it at Guy-man.  He nearly jumped out of his seat as the can landed near his lap, and he looked back quickly, leaning right over the couch.  Brows furrowed, messy hair covering his face, his lips curled downwards in a scowl.  It was actually quite funny for Thomas to see his friend making such a face, and he stifled a laugh, holding his arm up to his mouth.  “That almost hit my dick, you stupid fuck!"

 “Bad aim.” Thomas chuckled to himself, getting a can of Cola for himself as well.  He strutted over to the living room to join his friend, who was still enamoured with the show that he was watching on the plasma screen TV.  He seemed to be deeply involved in the show, very concerned with the character's endeavors, even though he had just started watching it.  Breaking the silence, as silence was not one of his fortes, Thomas asked a question.

“Have you seen this show before?”

“Nah, I’ll watch anything involving drama on TV.  I’m particularly obsessed with soap operas.”

 “You’re such a damn girl.” mumbled Thomas dejectedly, sipping on his drink.  His friend could be interested in the things he was.  Gambling, sports, the more technical side of music.  No, his friend had to be obsessed with soap operas.  Out of  _anything_ on TV, this man enjoyed fucking soap operas.   _Give me a break_. 

“Yeah, I’m a pretty girl though. Aren’t I?” Guy-man pushed his hair behind his ear with two fingers and looked at Thomas with big puppy-dog eyes.  Thomas tried his hardest to focus his attention to the stupid show on TV, but his eyes darted from the screen and back to Guy-man constantly.  Turning his face away from Guy-man, his cheeks began to burn once again.  Oh shit, here comes the mood change.  He bit his lip, unsure of what to do.  Stupidly, he replied to the question.

 “...yeah.” he whispered softly, under his breath.  Guy-man smiled and tilted his head curiously at his friend, moving closer.

 “Hm? What was that?” Guy-man slid his hands up to Thomas’s lap, grabbing a hold of his belt buckle.  Oh shit, Thomas thought to himself.  He was getting hard.  Please, no.  Not right now.  

“Dude if you want money, just fucking ask,” he replied quickly, slurring and stuttering his words.  He started to raise his chin upwards, one eye closed, his lips pulled back.  His face gave off an expression of pain, but in reality, Thomas was just trying to hold back a boner.  Placing his can of Cola on the floor, he pinned his back against the back of the couch. 

 “Oh, I don’t want money.  I want your cock.”

That was it.  Thomas was definitely hard now, he could feel as his bulge began to throb expectantly.  God, he was nervous as hell.  He’d never banged his friend before, and Guy-man always did this shit to him.  And he always left him hard, horny as hell, and upset.  Upset because he’d just leave him.  The nerve of that guy.  Every time Guy-man would leave him in such a state, he'd either have to take a cold shower or jerk off to the thought of him.  

“A-are you sure you’re not just going to leave me again, as always?” Thomas narrowed his eyes.  In response, Guy-man climbed into Thomas’s lap and smirked. Their faces were close, and Thomas could feel the soft, panting breaths of Guy-man on his lips. Thomas tried to avoid looking into his friend’s eyes, but he couldn’t help but look deep into the swirling mess that was Guy-manuel’s hypnotic stare.  And he fell for it, and fast.  

Guy-man’s eyelashes batted as he seduced his friend.  He moved slowly against Thomas’s body.   _Shit, shit, SHIT. What do I do?_ thought Thomas.  He was nervous and sweating like crazy.  In the heat of the moment, he put his hands on Guy-man’s hips and squeezed them.  He had never felt his friend like this before, and it was a totally new experience for him.  He was soft, sure.  Maybe even a little feminine.  He kneaded his fingers into his friend’s sides, rubbing his hips slowly up and down.  Guy-man seemed to shiver, but his smirk remained unbroken.  His lips parted as he moaned softly, and Thomas slowly began to grind his crotch against Guy-man's ass.  Thomas nearly melted into the couch, his body surging with pure ecstasy.  

"Mmm... God, Guy-manuel, you are delicious..." Thomas whispered softly, his hands constantly moving against Guy-man's soft body.  "You're like... f-fucking chocolate... I want to eat you up..."

"What?" Guy-man looked down at Thomas, seeing his friend leaned back, mouth wide open, drooling out of the corner of his mouth.

"Y-you're s-s-s-so g-g-g-g-good, Crydamoure... I'm gonna f-fuck you like the l-l-little ... b-bitch! you are..." 

And suddenly, laughter erupted from Guy-man.  He began to laugh uncontrollably.  As soon as the encounter started, it was over.  Guy-man fell off of Thomas's lap and onto the ground, holding his stomach as his laughter belted out of his mouth.  What the fuck, Guy-man?  Thomas knew this was going to happen.  Guy-man sat up, still laughing, pointing at Thomas's lap.  

"Look how fucking hard you are! Christ dude, calm down!" Guy-man took a moment to laugh, tears flowing from his eyes. "God, your dick could probably tear a hole through your pants if it wanted!" Thomas gritted his teeth together.  He looked down at his lap and noticed a very... wet mark on the crotch area of his pants.  Oh  _shit_.  He was leaking so much. "Man, if I ever fucked you, you'd cum in 3 seconds!"

"What are you even laughing at, you asshole?" Thomas questioned, covering his lap with a pillow.

"Your fucking voice!  Your fucking _stutter_! You're so terrible at sex talk, I can't believe it," Guy-man slowly began to calm down, a few laughs escaping in between words. "Mild stuttering can be extremely cute during sex too, I don't see why yours is so... hilarious!"

"Is there a problem with that?"

"You can't just say shit you hear out of porn, Roulé.  It's cheesy." Guy-man ran a hand through his hair, pulling his bangs back. Thomas gave him a constant glare, looking at him disgustedly.  It's not like Guy-man wouldn't say things like that.  He totally would.  Why is it that it's suddenly funny when  _I_ do these things? Thomas ran these thoughts through his head, grumbling miserably to himself.

"Alright, Roulé, I'm gonna let you jerk off.  I'll leave you be." 

"W-wait, where are you going?" Thomas asked, holding a hand out as Guy-man arose from his seated position on the floor.

"I'm going out to get something to eat, you can't even fucking offer any food to me." And just like that, he was gone.  The door slammed loudly behind him as he left, whistling a song of his to himself.  Thomas made sure to take notice if his wallet was gone or not.  Well shit, Guy-man still had his wallet.  Knowing him, he was going to spend all his fucking money on some fancy-prancy dinner at some high-end restaurant.  Without him, of course.  Fucking great.

Thomas, still embarrassed, removed the pillow from his lap.  Undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, he wrapped his hand around his cock and masturbated to the thought of what just happened.


	4. Italian food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda short.. something more interesting will happen next chapter

Ring, ring.  Ring, ring.  Thomas’s brows furrowed as he attempted to call Guy-man.  This was the second time he had to deal with shit like this today.  As per usual, he wasn’t picking up.  He needed his fucking wallet.  He couldn’t go anywhere without it. Driving without his wallet earlier was a big enough risk, but he seldom carried cash with him.  This was not a good situation for someone like Thomas to be in.  Thomas slammed his fist against the wall he was leaning against, grinding his teeth together impatiently.  “Pick up the phone you fucking stupid slut!” he shouted out loud.  The line fell dead once again.  He wasn’t going to pick up anytime soon, and he knew it.

Giving up on attempting to call the man, Thomas hung the receiver on the wall and walked over to the window that looked out onto the streets below.  Cars zoomed past on the roads, and lights from apartment rooms lit up the skyline like stars.  It was late at night.  Guy-manuel stole his wallet at about 7:00 PM.  He pulled up his sleeve, peeking at his watch.  It was now 9:09 PM.  He sighed softly, pressing his forehead against the cool window and looking out into the city streets.  He found peace in watching the busy lives of others, wishing he wasn't as busy as they were.  So much shit to do… so many stupid people to deal with… Thomas was a workaholic, and dealing with a friend who could go from horny to depressed in a matter of seconds was a challenge for sure.  They met in an all-ages night club when Thomas was a DJ, and they hit it off quite fast.  Thomas used to be rowdy, but he always had an angered or impatient aura around him.  He was inspired by disco music as a result of his father raising him on the genre, and he often mixed it into his live sets.  Guy-man was amazed by this feat, and he revealed to Thomas that he was a DJ as well.  Or, at least an aspiring one.  When Thomas and Guy-man met, Thomas was 19, and Guy-man was 16.   At first, Thomas hated the kid.  He pissed him off so badly.  He'd always ask for stupid advice.  Now that Thomas was well into his twenties, and Guy-man was 25, he had a higher tolerance for him.  

Thomas sighed happily.  He remembered all the good times he had with Guy-man when they were younger.  They would DJ together under the name "Daft Punk", but that quickly fell apart.  Thomas went off to form his own label, named Roulé, and Guy-man, with his pink-dyed hair and alluring personality, began producing music under the name "Crydamoure".  Despite not making music together anymore, they still found inspiration from each other.

Today, his record company was starting to gain popularity, and he signed quite a few talented artists to his label.  Most of them were French, much like himself, though he didn’t exclude any persons who didn’t happen to be of that background.  He just prefered French artists, really.  He liked the sounds those people could produce in their music, as if they had a “French touch” to them.  Though living in America most of the time was a bit frustrating, it was more convenient for Thomas to work there.  The main downsides were that a lot of his friends were in France, and as well as that, Americans seemed to find novelty in his thick French accent.

Thomas turned around and scowled, the corner of his lip pulled back.  He leaned against the window and rested himself on the ledge, his arms crossed.  He reached over to the side table and opened up his cigar box, carefully picking one out.  He held it up to his face, eyeing it as he turned it around in his hands.  Grunting in approval, he pulled the chrome lighter out of his front pants pocket and snipped the end of the cigar off, lighting the other side.  He put the freshly cut end to his lips and slowly inhaled, eyes closed.  At least he could find peace right now.  All was silent.

Suddenly, he heard his phone, which was placed on the coffee table, start to vibrate.  His ringtone played loudly. _We’re up all night ‘til the sun, we’re up all night to get some…_ Thomas walked over to the table, placing the burning end of his cigar down in the ashtray, and picked up his phone, sliding it up to his ear.

“Alo?” he said, the strong taste of his cigar burning in his mouth. 

“Roulé! You were calling me from your home phone?” It was Guy-man.  Finally, he fucking called.  

“Why weren't you picking up?” Thomas replied, ignoring the man’s initial question.  He tried his hardest to maintain his calm composure.  He sat on the edge of his coffee table, hand in his lap.

“I was eating!” Thomas could hear the sound of clattering dishes in the background.  At least he was being honest.

“You… spent more of my money, didn’t you?”

“Actually, no! I used my own money.”

Well, this was certainly surprising.  Thomas was sure as hell he’d use _his_ money to go on a nice dinner date with some stripper he would lose interest in within an hour of the date starting.  But no, he spent his own money.  This was odd.

“Where’s my wallet?”

“Still in my pocket.  You need it?”

“What do you think, Guy-man?”

Guy-man chuckled, and Thomas smiled, albeit a small smile, but he still felt happy.  

“I bought you some food, by the way.”

Thomas was absolutely bewildered.   _What?_  “You bought me something? I-I mean, you bought me food? Why?”

“You seemed sad after I left you.”

“Yeah…” Thomas held his free arm around his stomach, embarrassed.  Guy-man giggled into the phone, despite Guy-man not being able to see him, he looked down in shame.  “Where exactly did you go?”

“I’m not far.  I went to an Italian restaurant.” Damn, Guy-man knew that Italian was his absolute favourite food.  This guy was going overboard.  Why was he being so nice?

“Y-you got me Italian?”

“Fettuccine.”

“No way…”

“Yes way! I’m gonna come over now, okay?”

“That’s fine, I'll leave the door open.  I need a shower.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thomas exited the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around his waist.  His hair was still damp, and he quickly rubbed his hands all over his head, trying to shake out the greater amounts of water that still clung to his hair.  As he walked around the corner, he saw his friend sitting at the counter, playing a game on his phone.  He brought his head up and smiled at Thomas.

“Hey man! What’s up?” Thomas waved awkwardly, realizing his friend could see his bare chest.  

“I… just got out of the shower.”

“Did you?” Guy-man replied sarcastically, flashing a big toothy grin at him.

“I was just checking to see if you were here, I’m gonna go get dressed.” Thomas said, pointing his thumb in the direction of his room, which was down the hall where he came from.  Guy-man winked at Thomas, nodding his head.

It was now 10PM.  There was no point in Thomas getting dressed up for no reason, so as he returned to his room, he decided to put on his pyjamas.  This consisted of a white tank top and his boxers, as he was much too lazy to actually put on pyjama pants, let alone buy them.  Despite having a lot of money, Thomas was a cheap bastard.

He opened his door and walked out to the main room once again, finding Guy-man splayed out on the couch, sleeping.  He was snoring loudly.  Thomas rolled his eyes and sat down at the counter where his food was placed, opening up the bag in which it was contained.  Inside the bag was a note, written in sloppy, curly handwriting.  It read:

_“Hey Thomas!_

_I’m really sorry for always leaving you horny, haha! I really am. I feel bad, but it’s something I just do._   
_I’m not good at talking about my feelings openly with you, but all I can say is that I feel like me fucking_   
_you would ruin our friendship.  It’d make everything awkward._

_Enjoy this meal though! You’re my best friend.  I hope I don’t piss you off too much :-)_

_-Crydamoure (Guy-man)_

_P.S.  Your wallet is inside the takeout box with your fettuccine.”_

Thomas placed the letter down on the counter, thinking for a quick moment about what the letter said.   _He didn't want to make things awkward?_  Opening up the takeout box, he saw that his wallet was, in fact, placed neatly on top of the food inside.  He removed his wallet from its place and put it on top of a napkin, wiping the sauce off of it.  He grabbed a plate from one of the cabinets and dumped the fettuccine on it, placing it in the microwave to heat it up.  

Thomas took his food to the living room area and sat down on the armchair, placing the plate of food on his lap.  He realized then that he had left his cigar in the ashtray, and he huffed to himself.  What a waste.  Thomas picked up the remote control and put the TV on, eating his food slowly while watching a cooking show.  After he finished, he put his plates in the sink and then looked over to his friend, who remained on the couch, still fast asleep.

He walked into his room, grabbed a blanket, and brought it over to the sleeping Guy-man.  Covering his friend with the blanket, he smiled and bit his lip.  Hesitantly, and quite nervously, he kissed him on the cheek, whispering “good night” into his ear.


	5. Clothes shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry this took so long!! this chapter is a lot longer than the previous ones. i put a lot of work into this. enjoy!

It was early in the morning, or so Thomas had thought. Thomas had already awoken, unable to sleep very well the previous night. Having had weird dreams, he found himself tossing and turning throughout the night. He rolled over and stared with dead eyes at his alarm clock.  10:23... oh no, it was a lot later than Thomas had previously assumed.  Shit.

Annoyed and a little concerned as to why he slept in so late, the man forced himself to get out of his warm bed.  _Come on. Get up. C'est simple._  Walking out of his room, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape, his tired eyes searched for the whereabouts of his friend, as he couldn't remember much as to the details of the previous night.  He was  _that_  tired. After a few seconds of looking around, he found him, still sleeping on the couch in the same position he was in the night before, but now face-down. Thomas then remembered how he slept the previous night, face up, arms splayed across the furniture. It didn't look very comfortable, and neither did this. His pants were gone and draped on the armrest of the couch, and his shirt was there as well. He must have thrown them there last night, Thomas pondered to himself. Guy-man prefers sleeping naked.

So, the partly-nude Guy-man, boxers with hearts on it and all, drooled all over Thomas's expensive pillows. The blanket barely covered his body, and he snored loudly into the pillow his face was buried into. He eventually rolled around, tears streaming down his face as he snuffled loudly in his sleep.

Thomas sluggishly walked over to the kitchen area and put on a pot of coffee, propping up his elbows on counter to support himself. He rubbed his temples, groaning as the thought of today came into his mind. He felt annoyed. He had absolutely nothing to do today. No work, no things to attend to, nothing.  He hated having nothing to do during any given day.  And knowing his luck, he’d be spending the rest of the day with Guy-man. That wasn't all  _too_  bad, but he really could get on his nerves sometimes. Going anywhere with him was a struggle, he’d often run off in search for a cute girl to hit on. He often went out of his way to do this as well. Not only was it creepy, but Thomas hated having to go off and find his friend once again. This was a huge pet peeve of his, and Guy-man seldom responded to texts and phone calls if he was out on "the hunt", as Thomas liked to put it. Thomas often spent hours by himself in public and would often find his friend in a restaurant, sometimes many miles away, having lunch with some random chick he picked up.

He thought he saw his friend stir in his slumber, though he just took it as something he saw in the corner of his eye. He was practically a boulder when dormant. This man didn't even look like he was breathing when he slept. Odd. The only thing that moved were his lips, and Thomas thought he could probably kiss his friend right now -

No. He couldn't.  And he wouldn't.

 _Merde_. Thomas thought to himself.  _Maybe I should wake him up. It's getting late into the day..._

Despite his annoyances, he really did want to do something productive today. Eyeing his leather jacket, which sported his record company's logo across the back, he grinned slyly and thought to himself for a moment. He then looked over at Guy-man and began to observe the clothes that hung over the armrests.  _That kid has no sense of style. Maybe I should take him out clothes shopping._

Thomas wasn't one for spending large amounts of money, but  _ **shit**_ , this kid needed some new apparel. Despite his large sums of money and the ability to buy whatever the hell he wanted, he had absolutely no clue how to dress himself.  Spending most of his money on hookers and drugs was not a good investment whatsoever. A pink golf shirt and khaki shorts? Are you  _serious_? It would be okay for him to wear the golf shirt with khaki pants. Maybe. But no, the khaki shorts were not going to work. That would never work.

Pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, Thomas walked over to Guy-man and sat down on the coffee table that faced the couch. He leaned over and gently poked Guy-man's side, attempting to rouse him. He didn't even move from being poked.  _He must be used to being touched there_ , Thomas giggled to himself.  

Thomas placed his mug down on the table and began to shake him. Nothing.

 "Guy-man, on y va." Thomas said, rubbing his shoulder affectionately. "Guy-man, we're going to go somewhere today."

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flicked on in his brain, Guy-man instantly woke up. He blinked and wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes. He rolled over to look at Thomas, and he smiled. "Bonjour, Roulé." he leaned on one arm, fiddling with his necklace that sported the logo of his production name, Crydamoure. Guy-man told Thomas he made the necklace himself, and Thomas wouldn't lie, he had talent. He had a knack for creating things, and besides, it helped keep his hands busy and away from doing  _other_ things.

"Good morning. How was your sleep?" Thomas said, trying to strike up conversation.

"Great! But I have some  _major_  morning wood right now -"

"Alright, I'm going to have to stop you right there." Thomas uncomfortably pulled the blanket over his head and picked up his coffee. He stood up and nearly dragged himself to the kitchen table, feet shuffling against the floor, yawning tiredly as he seated himself. Guy-man sat up and stretched, tucking his greasy locks of hair behind his ears. Leading his gaze to Thomas, who was sitting at the table with a large blanket draped over his body, he asked a question as he stretched his arms high into the air.

"Where are we going?"

"Clothes shopping."

"Clothes shopping? What the fuck, Roulé. Why?"

"We wouldn't have to go if you didn't dress like a fucking homeless man." the exhausted Thomas took large gulps of his black coffee. He didn't even care about the burning sensation in his throat. He just wanted to feel at least a little bit alive for the rest of the day.

"What the hell are you talking about? I have style."

"You have the style of a 6-year-old who just started dressing himself for the first time," Thomas started to imitate Guy-man's voice mockingly. "Manman, regardez-moi! Je suis un grand garçon maintenant!"

"Shut up Roulé!" Guy-man hissed. "At least I don't dress like an old man. Do you have a coffin in your bedroom?"

Thomas didn't even attempt to respond to the immature and not-very-well-thought-out comment. He could flirt, yes. But his comebacks were prepubescent at best. He only continued to sip on his hot drink. Guy-man stood up and slipped his clothes on, yawning as he sat back down on the couch.

"Are you going to get anything to eat?" Thomas questioned.

"Can we just go out and eat?"

"Just eat now, there's lots of food."

"You know I'm lazy."

"I'll make you a fucking sandwich if you won't get anything to eat yourself." Thomas replied to the banter impatiently.

Guy-man nodded his head and pulled his phone out of his front pocket. "Go ahead." He began to fiddle with it and type out messages to people who had texted him the night before:

 

  [Dude, where are you?]

 

  [I'm at a friend's house ;-)]

 

  [Thomas? Are you freeloading again?]

 

  [Maybe. I don't kiss and tell.]

 

  [Bullshit. You won't even hug him, let alone kiss him.]

 

  [That's not true !]

 

However, while corresponding with his friend, Guy-man's cheeks began to flush, though very minimally. He knew he was blushing, but he desperately tried to hide it from Thomas, sitting the other way in an attempt to face away from him.  _Merde, Pedro. Leave me alone._

Thomas called Guy-man over to the table, and he did as he said, sitting across from him. Thomas slid the plate over to him. "I made you a sandwich."

"What's in it?"

"It's PB&J."

"What? What am I, seven?"

"You certainly act like it."

 "Make me another sandwich, Roulé." Guy-man's voice deepened a little bit, pursing his lips. Thomas lead his eyes upwards and stared at Guy-man. "Please?"

"Guy-man, stop it."

"Call me...  _Crydamoure_."

"Alright. Orgasm. Stop it."

"Not until you give me what I want, honey..."

Oh  _god_ , his voice sounded so porny. This was real life, not a porno. Did Guy-man know the difference? Probably not. This was most likely a ruse, they were probably filming a porno right now. He's going to say "what I want is your  _cock_ " and then they'll proceed to fuck on the table, ignoring the sandwich that Thomas had so lovingly crafted for him. Snapping out of his thoughts, Thomas covered his eyes the best he could so he wouldn't melt into the gaze of his friend.

"Okay, what do you want." his voice completely lacked intonation. He was absolutely monotone.  He dreaded having to deal with him.

"Make me... a ham and cheese sandwich."

"Y-you could speak normally, you know."

"Why? Is my voice making you hard?"

"No, it's not that, I-I, I just find it hard to focus when you speak like that."

"Does it arouse you?"

 "God DAMNIT, Guy-man," Thomas removed his hands from his eyes, slamming his fists down onto the table. "Stop it."

"No."

"Fucking stop."

"Haha, nope."

"Fuck, I'll make you your stupid sandwich."

"Thanks, hun."

"Tais-toi."

Guy-man smirked. He loved getting what he wanted. Thomas pulled the blanket off his shoulders, fumbling clumsily with its removal, and eventually stood up. He walked over to the fridge to pull whatever the  _fuck_  Guy-man wanted in his _stupid fucking sandwich_  out of it. Guy-man snickered into his hands, turning around to watch as he angrily rummaged through the drawers of refrigerator. Jokingly, he lifted his hand and delivered a swift, quick slap to Thomas's ass. Thomas nearly jumped out of his skin, gritting his teeth and slamming the fridge door shut, the sound of bottles clinking against each other.

"What was that for?!" he growled angrily through his teeth. His cheeks appeared to be red from embarrassment.  Or possibly arousal.

"Your ass just looks so delicious," Guy-man flirted. "I couldn't resist." Thomas blushed harder and looked in the opposite direction of Guy-man. He couldn't tell if he was serious anymore.  He was unable to tell the difference between Guy-man's actual attempts to come onto him and Guy-man's playful flirting. 

"Are you sure y-you want a different sandwich?" Thomas began to repeat his words as he spoke, his awkwardness showing through. "I-I mean, we really should get going now."

"Just make me the damn sandwich, hon."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Thomas drove fast down the highway. He was wearing his leather Roulé jacket and a grey argyle sweatervest underneath. His pants were dark khaki in colour, and he wore dull grey boots to compliment his sweater. Guy-man sat in the passenger seat, arm hanging out the window with a cigarette between his fingers. He looked rather pouty as he did this (more than usual, that is), and Thomas took notice of this. It was strange seeing Guy-man in such a neutral state. However, as soon as Guy-man looked to the side and their eyes met, he smiled.

Thomas returned the gesture. He hated him so much.

"So, where we we going?"

"To the mall."

"I thought you hated 'commoner areas'," said Guy-man, with a wry smile on his lips.

"Don't patronize me. I'm buying you clothes for fuck's sakes."

"Why, what's wrong, King Roulé?"

"Don't call me a king. Stop insisting I'm some hoity-toity asshole, because I'm not."

"Suit yourself, self-proclaimed 'King of Gambling'. Besides, I thought you gambled nightly. What happened?"

Thomas hiked his shoulders up defensively, cringing as Guy-man brought up the topic. "M-my friends have been busy. I haven't had the time."

"Don't you miss the big bucks though? That feeling of excitement?" Guy-man held his hand up and rubbed his fingers together, simulating the gesture as if he had cash between them. "I could give you that excitement, you know. For a fee, of course."

"You've got to be kidding me," Thomas groaned exasperatedly. "Why are you suddenly bringing  _this_  up?"

"I'm not."

"People pay you for sex?"

"Not exactly. I wish they did," he smiled. "Want to be my first customer?"

"Guy-manuel, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?" Thomas scoffed, growing more concerned. "Do you want to get STDs? Do you want your sack to itch like crazy all the time?"

"What, you suddenly care about me?" tears began to well up in his eyes. His lips quivered and he crossed his arms into his chest, as if he were a child pouting. "You never seemed to care before! I want to do something that  _I_  enjoy and you fucking care too much! Why can't you be happy for me?"

"Are you crying?" Thomas took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at Guy-man. Yep, he was crying.

"You don't  _really_ care about me! Don't lie to me, that's so fucking cruel! What the hell, Thomas?! I've done nothing wrong, but as soon as a problem concerning you comes up, you feel the need to worry!  All you want is to have me all to yourself!"

The rant continued on and on. He had no clue what he was going on about.

"G-Guy, calm down."

"It's Guy-man, you ignorant fuck! T'es un bâtard égoïste!"

Alright. At this point, Thomas had not a clue what Guy-man was angry at. He was so confused and had no clue what to do with him. He scratched nervously at the hairs on his cheeks that just started to come up through his skin. He anxiously watched as Guy-man fell silent after a few minutes of ranting. He seemed to bite down on his cigarette as he smoked the last bits of it, and he flicked out out the window as soon as he was finished.

After about 20 minutes of driving (and 20 minutes of silence), they arrived at the mall. Thomas found a parking spot far away from all the other cars. He didn't want to damage his  _bébé_. The two friends walked into the building, having no idea of where to go. Approaching the directory, they searched through the names of stores, Thomas specifically looking for more upper-class ones.  This kid needed some good clothes.

"Lacoste? They have golf shirts. Don't you like those?"

"I need something besides golf shirts, Thomas."

"Do you want me to get you a suit? Maybe I could get you a sweatervest."

"I am not a loser."

"I'm not a loser either."

"Gambling isn't for losers, hon."

"What are you implying?" Thomas looked down at his tiny friend, watching as his normally pouty lips curved into a big smirk.

"C'mere, Thomas. Let me tell you something."

"Eh?" Thomas bent down slightly to hear whatever his friend wanted to tell him. As he moved in closer to listen, Guy-man swiftly kissed him on the nose, pulling back immediately.

He whispered softly, "You are a huge fucking dork." Guy-man gently papped Thomas's cheek with his palm. Thomas was bewildered.  _What the fuck. He just kissed my nose. Oh no._

"I-I... I was... just going to s-s-say I could get you s-some nice c-c-clothes..."

"Stop being a dumb baby. It was just a friendly kiss. We're French!" Guy-man chuckled.  Thomas didn't like to conform to stereotypes, but it  _was_ considered a form of affection between good friends.  Maybe he was just overthinking it.

"A friendly kiss... yeah." Thomas adjusted himself, standing up straight once again. He then pointed to the directory once again and asked Guy-man where he'd like to go. It took them several minutes to decide on where exactly they were going to shop.  There was constant bickering over the stores they wanted to go to.  Guy-man seemed disinterested in nearly everything Thomas suggested. 

"Alright, fuck it, I'm taking you to an upscale men's clothing store. Let's go." Thomas groaned, his tolerance for Guy-man's bullshit approaching 0. He began to walk in the direction of the store Thomas thought would be good for his friend and him to look through, and Guy-man followed close behind.

As they approached the store, Guy-man stopped in his tracks. He took a notice of the contents inside the store and grumbled to himself. "Whoa, whoa. Non. I am not getting fancy clothes."

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_  Thomas slouched, his hands in his pockets. "I thought you agreed I could get you nice clothes."

"Yeah, as long as it's something I can wear daily and look normal wearing in public."

"So, something more practical?"

"Oui." Guy-man slicked his hair back, staring deep into Thomas's eyes. "Let's go somewhere else, come on."

Thomas crossed his arms looked away from Guy-man's eyes.  _No, you are not going to do this to me now._

"We're going inside." he replied sternly. "There's practical things inside here, trust me."

"Non."

"Please, Guy-man. I'm willing to spend money on you."

After a few minutes of solid bickering and attempting to convince the child-like 26-year-old, his friend agreed to come inside with him, on the condition that he'd buy him lunch later and give him some weed money as well. Still squabbling over when Guy-man would get his money, they walked inside the store. A sudden blast of cologne hit their noses as they entered, and Guy-man shuddered, not used to such a smell. Thomas coolly looked around, looking for something that his friend might look good in.

"They have a lot of things here. Suits, dress shirts, dress pants, polo shirts... you name it."

"Is any of it practical, though?" Guy-man chuckled to himself. Thomas groaned. He fucking  _hated_  that word now. Guy-man browsed idly through the selection of clothes, often pulling out things that suited his tastes. Thomas disagreed with almost everything Guy-man chose:

 

"Too tacky."

"Non, it won't do."

"You'd look like an idiot."

 

Eventually they decided on some things together, and Thomas led Guy-man to the dressing room.

"I'll wait outside, d'accord?"

"Sure thing, Père Bangalter!" Guy-man said sweetly. Thomas was conflicted and was unsure of whether he despised or liked that pet name. Guy-man took several minutes inside the dressing room, the sounds of him struggling to remove his clothes heard from inside. Guy-man opened the door slightly, speaking through the little crack between the door and the wall.

"Thomas, can you come in here and help me?"

Thomas paused for a moment.  _What?_  "...What are you struggling with?"

"I don't know how to do up this shirt properly, I don't wanna stand outside and draw attention. Come inside, please?"

Thomas grunted and sighed in disbelief. He shook his head angrily and gritted his teeth.  _This kid can't do up his own fucking shirt? Christ_. "Alright, I'll help you."

As he walked inside, he could feel Guy-man grab him by his collar and push him against the wall. Oh god, he was  _strong_. He pushed the door shut, and it clicked behind them. "Finally... some alone time together." It had been a ruse, Guy-man had already tried on the clothes he wanted, apparent by the clothes that were neatly folded and put into piles on the bench. Oh no.

However, Guy-man was indeed unable to button up his shirt. He stood there, shirt unbuttoned, wearing nothing but his boxers underneath. He gave Thomas the most seductive eyes he could, batting his eyelashes. He grabbed at his tie, tugging on it repeatedly, using it like a device to pull him down closer to his face. His eyes swirled as he seduced his friend, licking his lips and teeth slowly. "How about a little quickie?"

"H-here?" Thomas could barely make out the words he wanted to say as his friend pinned him hard against the dressing room wall.

"Yes, here, you big stupid dummy. Let's fuck." Guy-man pulled Thomas down lower to his height and pressed his lips against his, _hard_. Thomas jumped at first as their lips met, and he wasn't sure of what to do. Guy-man kept breaking the kiss, their lips brushing against one another as Guy-man went in for more. Slowly, Thomas began to feel more comfortable in the situation he was in, sliding his large hands onto Guy-man's hips. Guy-man seemed to loosen his hold on the man, and Thomas took advantage of this.

In an attempt to gain dominance, Thomas pushed Guy-man back and held him against the other wall. Guy-man moaned softly in surprise, deep growls emitting from his throat. " _Oh_ , Roulé, I didn't know you liked to be rough." he said, almost singing his words.  He was happy that Thomas was finally taking matters into his own hands.  He was normally such an awkward and shy person, but it was good to know he would at least be willing to be dominant in situations like these.  Guy-man smiled at Thomas, who appeared to have beads of sweat on his forehead.

Thomas leaned into Guy-man's ear and breathed heavily, panting hard. His voice was low and deep and slightly angered, and he kept such a tight hold on Guy-man that his muscles were straining. "Why won't you let me fuck you?" he whined helplessly.

"It's funny to watch you struggle when I tease you." suddenly, their lips met once again. Guy-man wrapped his legs around Thomas's back, using the wall behind him for support. He slid a hand up against Thomas's cheek, their hot breaths mixing as they embraced. He could feel his tongue rub against his lips, and he allowed it to enter, slowly French kissing with his friend. They continued to do this for a couple of minutes, Thomas gradually being drained of his energy.  He was so hard, and he could feel that Guy-man was as well.  However, Thomas broke the kiss as Guy-man began to bite his lips.

"What the hell are you doing?" Thomas said, with an annoyed tinge to his voice. Guy-man only giggled and tilted his head to the side, biting his lips once again. Their eyes met for a quick second and Thomas felt so deeply in love with Guy-man. He wanted him so bad. Guy-man pushed his hair behind his ears and blinked at Thomas, whispering softly to him instead of using his normal, boisterous voice.

"One day, I will fuck you. But now isn't the time."

"But why not now?" Thomas whined, going in for another kiss. Before he could kiss him again, Guy-man slid a single finger between their lips. Their lips hovered so closely together that Thomas swore he could taste him.

"Did you not read my note?"

"This awkwardness shit is total bullshit and you know it yourself."

"Ah ah ah," Guy-man waggled his finger. His eyes began to swirl, attempting to hypnotize the man. Thomas fell victim to Guy-man's ploy, ready to obey his every word. "We will fuck when you deserve it."

"Yes, Crydamoure." Thomas replied, in an almost drone-like tone. "I'm sorry."

"Good." Guy-man let his legs down, pushing Thomas away from him gently by placing a hand on his chest. Thomas stood there, feeling quite hot and bothered. Guy-man slowly put his shorts and regular shirt on, looking back at Thomas every so often to make sure he wasn't going to pass out from arousal. Thomas seemed to be fine, though he leaned against the wall, panting hard.

As Guy-man walked out of the dressing room, clothes in his arms, Thomas seemed to slip out of the trance-like state he was in. He realized Guy-man had left and was walking towards the cash register, and he quickly followed, attempting to remove his wallet from his back pocket. Lo and behold, it was gone once again, and he realized Guy-man was purchasing his clothes for himself, with _his_ credit card. He had stacked up quite a few pairs of pants on the table, as well as a few dress shirts, and surprisingly, a sweatervest. Thomas smiled and approached Guy-man just as he was finishing up purchasing the new clothes. Thomas looked awkward, sweaty, and stupid. His hair was a mess, and he rubbed the shaved back of his head in embarrassment.  He was just happy the cashier didn't question him about his appearance. 

"I was not expecting that." he said as he bent down, whispering into the ear of his friend. Guy-man only grinned in response. They walked out of the store together, Thomas carrying the big bag of clothes for the _très petit_ Guy-man.

"So..." Thomas said, breaking the few moments of silence.

"You're a great kisser, I won't lie about that."

"What? You're just trying to flatter me," Thomas said. "You're trying to reel me in some more, aren't you?"

"I've made out with prostitutes and strippers who do this shit for a living. You're better than them."

Thomas was a little confused by Guy-man's comment about making out with sex workers. "You've made out with prostitutes?"

"I can do anything, Thomas."

 _Yeah, except fucking bang me_. Thomas wasn't sure if he absolutely hated or loved his friend at this point.

 


	6. The first time is always the most awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to thank carboniccassiopeia for editing this chapter with me! she put so much content in that i'd have to say she pretty much wrote it with me... so yeah. enjoy! ALSO: THIS IS A FLASHBACK. it takes place before everything. some people were confused.

Ten years before stolen wallets, fettuccine alfredo in takeout boxes, and sensual romps in dressing rooms, Thomas and Guy-man first laid eyes on each other during the beginning of Thomas’s music career.  Guy-man, even at the young age of 16, was somehow able to charm his way into the nightclub Thomas was DJing at.  After the set, Thomas was easily spotted by Guy-man, who, after a few drinks, was eager to gush about how he loved Thomas’s disco influences on his work.  He explained to the teen how he implemented the genre into his works, but Guy-man didn't seem to take any interest in the technical word salad that came out of Thomas's mouth.  He was only interested in the music.  

After meeting in the nightclub that one fateful night, they bonded quite quickly on the basis of common interests and seemingly complementary personalities.  While Thomas seemed to be uptight, controlling, and punctual, Guy-man managed to be the complete opposite.  And for some unknown reason, these vast differences in personality seemed to draw them closer as friends.  However, if Thomas was truthful with himself, the deeper they moved into their friendship, the more he pined for them to be more than friends.  What he really wanted was a relationship with Guy-man.  An intimate one.  He was sure that it'd work - after all, if they could work so well as friends, surely a different type of relationship would work just as well.  Now if only the boy was actually _legal_.

Two years later, a roaring house party hosted at Pharrell’s was initiated in honor of Guy-manuel’s one-and-only 18th birthday. Needless to say, heavy celebratory drinking was involved, and despite the legal consequence, Guy-man got absolutely smashed.  The night consisted of dancing, raiding Pharrell’s weed stash, Guy-man drunkenly attempting to DJ, and extremely close physical contact between friends and strangers.  Guy-man was considered the "prize" of the night, and everyone wanted a piece of the stocky French man, whether Thomas was okay with that or not.  The night ended with Guy-man stumbling out the front door, with Thomas supporting most of his drunken weight.  Thomas was a responsible man, and despite being at the legal drinking age of 21, he tried to keep his blood alcohol content to a minimum.  With the rate Guy-man was going earlier that night, he knew he'd have to walk his friend home, even if he was a little bit drunk too.  After all, he felt he was at least a bit responsible for the well-being of his friend.  He would never say it outright, but he felt like they had a special bond between them that few people had.  

By the time they had reached Thomas’s doorstep, Guy-man was already out cold.  Having to drag his intoxicated friend inside, he carried him in his arms into the living room and put him down gently on the couch.  His mouth hung open, drooling out the corners of his mouth.  He tried poking him awake, but to no avail.  He was not going to stir anytime soon.  Thomas had decided to watch TV and make some food as he waited for his friend to return to the world.  He observed the digital clock, which hung on the wall.  The glowing red numbers read "3:56 AM", and Thomas began to ponder.  There was a discussion he meant to have with Guy-man particularly on this day, but maybe he could just wait for another time to talk to Guy-man, the past night had obviously taken a toll on him.  Non.  He was too anxious to wait.  He had to bring up the question soon, it was now or never.  So, impatiently, Thomas waited for his friend to awaken out of his inebriated slumber.

It had been many hours before Guy-man finally awoke.  He groaned into the pillow on the couch, raising his head.  He rubbed his forehead, furrowing his brow as if he were in pain.  His pink hair was sticking up in every area imaginable, and he turned his head towards Thomas.

"Good morning, sunshine." Thomas said teasingly, realizing his friend was awake.  The time was now 5:12 AM, and despite his complete exhaustion, he insisted in waiting for his friend to wake up.  He knew it might take a long time, but that didn't stop him.

"Where the fuck am I?" Guy-man hissed through his front teeth, frowning at his friend.  Tears began to well up in the corner of his eyes, and he yawned, rolling onto his back.  His hair splayed out all over the pillow, his arms resting on the couch in a similar manner.  Thomas silently appreciated the view he was given.  "I have a massive headache, what even happened?"

"Party.  You're eighteen now."

"Ah, yeah.  Right," he blinked slowly as he wiped the tears away from the corners of his eyes.  He yawned again, sitting up with a soft huff.  "What time is it?"

"It's now 5:15." Thomas responded, pointing with his index finger at the clock that hung on his wall.

"AM or PM?"

"AM."

"What the fuck?!" he nearly shrieked throwing the blanket off himself while giving Thomas a glare that could cut glass.  Thomas laid there, feeling more than a little confused.  "Why am I awake? What even happened?"

"Guy-man, no.  You look like you're about to cry.  Control yourself."

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Thomas was taken aback.  Guy-man was treating this situation as if he were out for many months, possibly in a coma.   _What was even going on?_  He rubbed his temples with two fingers on each side, sighing heavily.

"Listen, you were at a party.  You passed out from drinking too much."

"And now we're back at your place? Why didn't you take me to a hospital? I could have died, you know," he continued to ramble, covering his face with his hands. "I was high too, I could have died from that mixture of drugs and alcohol!" The rambling failed to cease, and continued, on and on, until Thomas was about to lose his mind.

"You aren't dying, shut the fuck up," Thomas was getting angry and exasperated with his friend's behaviour.   _Oh my god, Guy-man.  Grow up.  You're eighteen now, and you still act like a child_.  "You're getting on my nerves.  At least I brought you to my house."

"Oh, so you wouldn't have if you didn't feel obliged to? Real fucking nice!" Guy-man flipped himself around and fell face-first into the pillow his head was previously resting on.  "UGH, this pillow is wet with drool!" he said, his voice muffled.

Thomas scratched his head, he was more annoyed than confused, and he wouldn't have it.  He stood up and walked over to the part of the couch where Guy-man was pouting on and placed a hand gently on his back.  The action that was initially meant to soothe was placed aside in a petty need for Thomas to win the argument.  "Guy-man, you need to grow a fucking pair." he whispered vindictively, his voice scratchy as he forced the words out of his throat.  Guy-man turned his head, and then his whole body.  In a flare of unbridled anger, Guy-man sucker punched Thomas.  Falling to the floor, groaning in pain, it took him a few seconds to recuperate.  "WHAT THE HELL? What was that for?!" he barked, rubbing his recently-stamped cheek. _What a little bitch.  I swear to fucking god, I'm going to strangle you._

"Because I love you," he began, smiling.   _Oh god, Guy-man.  Stop fucking smiling, you stupid smug asshole_. "And it's you who needs to grow a pair.  At least I had the balls to get piss drunk."

Thomas scoffed.  "What...? I don't see how that's related to anything we've been arguing about.  Someone had to look after you!  I didn't drink because I care about you."

"Sure you do, Thomas.  Sure you do."

 

 

* * *

 

 

It had been an hour since they had stopped arguing.  Thomas sat with a heavy blanket wrapped around his body, his long legs sticking out from beneath the covering.  His cheek began to show signs of bruising, but he didn't really care.  He wasn't in the mood to confront Guy-man about his odd behaviour either, but he assumed it was because of his hangover.  God knows how much he actually drank, but Thomas wouldn't have been surprised if he drank enough to still be intoxicated into the morning.  Guy-man sat across from Thomas on the other side of the long family room couch, feet up on the ottoman, smoking a cigarette.   His socks were pulled off, and his shirt was unbuttoned.  Thomas was endlessly confused by this man.  First off, he had absolutely no linearity to his thoughts, going off on seemingly random tangents that he had only begun to understand two years into their friendship.  Thomas often thought that Guy-man had the amazing ability to just pull words out of his ass, depending on how he was feeling at any given moment.  He knew his friend was unstable, and he knew he was prone to temper tantrums.  A now eighteen year old man who still had temper tantrums.  Thomas let a huff of breath escape him.  Man, how the _hell_ did his parents even raise him?

Thomas didn't want him smoking in his house, but he knew he would throw a fit if he said no.  So he decided to let him slip and let him smoke, though only this one time.  Thomas might be strict and controlling, but he could show a bit of leniency when he felt like it.  Besides, his friend had just nearly broke down on him and almost cried.  He supposed it would make the most sense to give him a little leeway.  And besides, Thomas wanted to seem nice.

He had an important question to ask.

"Guy-man," Thomas began, pulling the blanket off of his head, fumbling nervously with it. "Have you a crush on anyone?"

"Not really..." he had responded, his voice trailing off.  He blew smoke out of his mouth, his face softening as he continued to speak. "Well, I mean, there might be someone."

"Is she cute?"

"He."

"Oh," Thomas responded, a bit shocked. He knew his friend was most definitely bisexual (even if he was not vocal about it), but he didn't seem like someone who'd actively pursue a male companion, in an actual, real relationship. Or anybody, really.  He gave a mental shrug, guessing Guy-man enjoyed the experience of being involved physically with anyone, as long as they were hot. "Who?" he swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"You're an attractive guy, Thomas. I'll admit it."

"W-what? No way..."

"Oui, you look so cute with that stubble on your cheeks..." Thomas thought that if he was a cartoon character, Guy-man's eyes would have turned into hearts at this moment. And Thomas was beginning to feel more than just a bit flustered.  He wasn't ready for this confrontation, but he pressed on.  He wasn't going to hold back like he did in previous attempts.  Even if those past attempts lead to tears, anger, and embarrassment (and it was usually Thomas's fault too, if he was willing to accept the blame). He was completely unable to properly articulate the things he wanted to say, and ended up somehow offending Guy-manuel each time.

Thomas breathed in deep and seized the opportunity.

“I-I guess I could say I... l-liked you, ever since we met at that nightclub way back then.  Even if you were annoying.  B-But.  That doesn’t matter to me now, I don’t mind it.” He continued on, words beginning to spill out of his mouth rapidly.  “In-in fact, maybe… maybe that’s one of the reasons I care for you, you know?  Like more than a friend?  You’re always here, with me and... I just, I want to do everything for you, I mean -”  Unfortunately for Thomas, not everything he said was appropriate for the moment. "I've even jerked off to the thought of you before."  

"What?!" Guy-man shrieked, holding his hand up to his lips to cover his wide smile, trying not to laugh at the look of abject horror Thomas had on his face after realizing what he just said.  He got up out of his seat and sat near Thomas, looking at him right in the eyes.  A smile showed on his lips, his messy, greasy pink hair sticking up everywhere.  He looks so stupid, Thomas thought to himself.  I want to kiss him.  He inhaled slowly through his nose, trying to think of how to formulate his next sentences.  He could feel his heart palpitating rapidly deep inside his chest.

"I..... I-I m-m-mean... I just think you're r-really attractive," Thomas kept pausing for what felt like minutes at a time, trying to think of how to avoid saying even more completely idiotic things to his friend.  He didn't want to offend him as he tended to do in his previous attempts.  He closed his eyes in shame- his face was so red, and he felt so stupid.  Biting his lip, he continued to speak, the pink-haired man smirking at him as his mouth began to move. "If you're okay with that."

"No, I'm more than okay with it." he mused.

More silence lingered between them for a few minutes. Guy-man shuffled closer next to Thomas, bringing his knees up to his chest before coyly looking at the other with a steady, sidelong leer.  Thomas flinched at the movement. He tried to speak, but nothing came out except for the occasional stuttering crack of his voice.  Words were unneeded between them, they had each other's touch. _Please don't say anything stupid, Thomas, you'll fuck up._  He did anyways.

"Have you e-ever considered... wanting to go out?"

"With you?"

"Yes."

"Go out... how?" Guy-man questioned slyly, Thomas knew he very well knew what he meant.

Thomas gulped and nervously fingered at the collar of his shirt. "Will you be my boyfriend? I-I mean... if that's what you want-"

Guy-man interrupted him by placing a hand where Thomas’s neck and shoulder meet, underneath the collar where Thomas had his own hand. His pink-dyed hair draped over his eyes, and he blinked at Thomas, smiling gently. He closed his eyes and nodded slowly, kissing Thomas on the cheek. "Of course, ma chérie." Tears flowed from his eyes as he hugged his friend, now boyfriend. He was crying, yes, of course. But crying from happiness. Maybe they both were.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I don't k-know about this Guy-man..." Thomas groaned as his cock stood up stiff, his boyfriend between his legs.  He was lying on his bed, long legs spread out much further than the space Guy-man actually needed.  His legs hung off the side of the bed, flexing and curling his toes as little moans of pleasure escaped from his lips. Guy-man, messy hair and all, slowly sucked him off, wrapping his tongue around his head with great skill. Thomas, being the nervous wreck he was, put his hands on his head, playing with his hair to ground himself. It felt so greasy to the touch, dyed pink locks stuck together, but he couldn't bothered to care. He felt so great.  Thomas marked this down as definitely the best blowjob his boyfriend had ever given him.  His soft pink tongue teased around every area of his sensitive cock, making Thomas weak.  His mouth hung open as he watched Guy-man stroke and lick his member, occasionally sliding it into his mouth.  This was Thomas's favourite part - he loved feeling the warmth of Guy-man's mouth around his sensitive head.  As he pulled it out every so often, little strings of precum connected from Thomas's head to the tip of Guy-man's tongue.  His hands were placed on the inside of Thomas's thighs keeping him spread. Guy-man turned his head to the side and gave his shaft soft kisses that trailed from the bottom of his cock to the slit of his head.  

Guy-man slipped his lips over Thomas's head again, looking up and locking eyes with the other. He hotly breathed out words against Thomas’s wet cock. "Don't worry, I know how to do these things." He continued to suck him off, returning Thomas’s member into his warm mouth. Thomas squirmed uncomfortably.  Though he had gotten numerous blowjobs from Guy-man before, he still wasn't used to the weird sensation of someone putting his dick in their mouth. He would hesitate to admit he had never gotten sexual favours done for him in previous relationships before Guy-man came long.  He loathed that he was as awkward as he was, the talons of teenage awkwardness still firmly latched onto him. He didn't know how to deal with people in social situations, let alone sexual situations.

His friend nibbled gently on his foreskin, pulling it down with a rough tongue. Oh god, no. No, this is too much. Throwing his head back, he moaned lustfully, legs shaking with pleasure. "Fuck, Guilliame." he let out a cri d'amour, trying to hold in the orgasm he could already feel coming so soon.  Guy-man perked up after hearing his full name being so unabashedly moaned.

"Your moans are so cute," Guy-man pulled Thomas's cock out of his mouth, giving one last harsh suck to the head. He slowly climbed up his body, placing his hands on the other’s chest. "Do you wanna fuck now?"

"Please.. I need it..." Guy-man ignored the plea as he looked around the room in search of something, but Thomas persisted.  "I'm so horny..."

Guy-man silenced him by holding up a hand.  "Hush. Do you have condoms? Lube?"

"W-what? No..." Thomas had completely forgotten to buy those things. Okay, maybe he didn't forget. But he would never admit he was too embarrassed to go to a store and purchase those sorts of items.

"Shit, I'm not going to be able to take it in if we don't have anything."

"We can use soap."

"We are NOT using soap!" Guy-man snapped.

"Doesn't i-it work as a lubricant?"

"If you want to completely destroy my asshole, then be my fucking guest."

"I thought I-I was already going to do that." Thomas flirted, nervous from the tension that built up between them. Shit, why did I say that.

Guy-man suddenly thrusted his arm in the direction of Thomas's mouth. He grabbed his chin, pulling his head up so they could look at eachother straight in the eyes. His brows furrowed angrily as Thomas looked back, and though Thomas felt fearful, he knew his friend wouldn't hurt him over this.  At least, that's what he thought before Guy-man’s voice took on a hard edge.

"We. Need. Lube."

"Will a condom suffice?"

"You know, maybe if you bought some condoms, we wouldn't have this problem."  

He let out a shaky sigh.  "I-... I'm sorry, I'm just desperate."

"Desperate for what? To lose your virginity to your first successful partner?" Guy-man’s tone became scathing as he pinned Thomas down by his shoulders.  Thomas looked away, trying to avoid his piercing glare.  He wasn't scared.  He was just concerned for his own safety - he didn't want a bruise on his face. "You're so pathetic."

"What? You don't mean that, do you?" Thomas said, surprised. "I... I thought y-you were okay with me being a virgin."

Guy-man suddenly let up, confusion etched on his face.  "... I thought aggressiveness aroused you."

 _SHIT_. Thomas thought to himself as he ground his teeth in embarrassment. I keep fucking up. I think my erection is going away. Oh god, Guy-man, I'm so sorry. I don't want to be this nervous.  I'm still technically a virgin.  I’ve never gone this far.  I don't know what to do. Anxiety crept up on him, cringing as unwanted thoughts filled his mind.

A monotone voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Thomas, you're confusing the hell out of me."

"I-I'm sorry. This is my first time doing this and I’m so awkward -"

"I'm three years younger and I've already had more experience than you..." he interrupted, grumpily slicking his hair back, keeping it out of his eyes. As he pulled his hair back, his natural brown roots showed.

"You're such a faggot, porn doesn't count as experience.  Porn isn’t even real..." Thomas mumbled, his voice shaking with nervousness.  He wanted to assert himself and gain control over the situation in any way possible- the act of Guy-man looming over him made Thomas so uncomfortable.  He wasn’t even sure how he got in this predicament, but it was too late now… showing any sign of weakness would be succinctly scrutinized and teasing on behalf of Guy-man.

"What?" Guy-man said, watching as Thomas was obviously having an internal struggle.

"N-Nothing, are we gonna fuck or not?" Thomas responded, trying to get back to the action.

Guy-man's shoulders slumped. He let out a heavy sigh and looked at his boyfriend, though his face was not of his normal demeanor. He looked to be quite annoyed. "You just want to have sex at this point, don't you?"

Thomas nodded.

"You don't even care about how awkward and sweaty you are right now?"

"W-what?"

"I know you're worried. I know your fears.  I can feel your cock against me, you know.  You're rather soft."

Thomas gave a displeased grunt, disliking being called out.  "Why are you talking like that?" He took quick notice of Guy-man's changing voice, which faltered as he began to speak, but quickly became stronger as he continued.  Guy-man was in control now.  This alarmed Thomas, but aroused him at the same time.

"Shut up, let's do it."

"We're gonna do it now?" Thomas said, surprised. "What about the l-lube?"

"Fuck the lube," he crawled backwards down his body and opened his wet mouth, slathering his tongue around Thomas's semi-hard member. Thomas, not expecting such an action, exclaimed and arched his hips upward, as his cock rapidly filled with blood once again. Guy-man dragged his flat tongue slowly along Thomas’s cock as he pulled off to speak."We're going to have to use my spit, because you were too fucking stupid to get any lube."

"I-I'm sorry, Guy-man..." Thomas began to pant. His chest rose and fell fast, and he bit down hard on his lip. Keep insulting me. Please. Ungh.

Guy-man climbed up onto Thomas's body and sat up. He pushed his hair back with his hand and placed the other on the center of Thomas’s chest for balance.  He looked down at Thomas, he wasn't the only one who knew who was in control right now.  Guy-man was the alpha male.  Lifting his ass up slightly, he slid his member between his asscheeks and slowly moved it between them.  Thomas groaned and grasped at the sheets for support, feeling his legs tremble more and more as the amount of pleasure and anticipation rose higher.  Guy-man held himself up by his arms, now placing both hands on Thomas's chest- moaning as if he were a porn star.  To his surprise, Thomas was the first to engage in dirty talk.

“Please, bury my c-cock in your ass.  I want it so bad - ”

Guy-man’s eyes shifted down to meet Thomas’s, glaring at him, a scowl painted across his face.  He grabbed at Thomas’s face, thumb and fingers squeezing around his jaw, and pushed it to the side, growling.  “Tais-toi, je te déteste quand tu parle beaucoup,” he ground himself harder against Thomas’s dick, and Thomas whimpered as he lay on the bed, pinned down by his boyfriend for the first time.  Thomas had always insisted on being the dominant one, this new perspective was not easy for him to deal with. He was unsure of what he could do to get himself out of this uncomfortable situation of having no control (or if he really even wanted to), but he definitely knew with the way the blood was roaring in his ears that he couldn’t last much longer.  Thomas had already been relentlessly teased by his boyfriend's tongue earlier, what made him think he could handle this? He shifted uncomfortably in his spot, but the tiny yet strong Guy-man held him down with ease.  His true strength was now showing through, the muscles in his toned arms were rippling under his skin as he held his much bigger friend down.

Guy-man breathed in deeply through his nose, and Thomas knew the part he had been waiting for so long would finally be happening.  His heart leapt into his throat at the realization- He would be fucking Guy-man soon, coming soon, being complete with him.   _Help me.  I can’t hold it in anymore, FUCK._

As Guy-man began to push himself onto Thomas’s head, Thomas gasped and moaned shakily, feeling his cock throb and twitch.  He bit down on his lip, the muscles in his legs and stomach starting to contract tightly in unrestrained pleasure.  He panted softly, brow creasing as he clawed at Guy-man’s hips to have something to hold onto. Once the head was fully in Guy-man, a loud shout came from Thomas, and long strings of pearly white semen suddenly shot into Guy-man.  Thomas, eyes starting to reopen, barely noticed Guy mouthing the words “What the fuck?” as he looked down and over his shoulder in an attempt to see what just happened.  Thomas let his head fall back against his pillow, still drunk on too much pleasure and relief to care about whatever Guy-man’s issue was.  Guy-man moved forwards, pulling the barely-in cock of Thomas out of him.  

His voice was incredulous.  “You fucking came?”

“W-what?” Thomas drooled, barely aware of what just happened.

“YOU CAME.”

“I did?”

Absolute disbelief overcame Guy.  “You’re telling me you didn’t feel that orgasm?”

“I-I guess it was all just too, uh- euphoric for me to notice?  I did cum.  I think.  Y-yeah...”

“You came in my asshole.”

“Isn’t that how i-it’s supposed to be done?” replied Thomas, trying to lighten the mood.  He was doing such a poor job of this that Guy-man groaned at the comment.

“According to porn, yes.  But it feels so fucking gross.  Fuck, I can’t believe you just came!” Guy-man shifted uncomfortably on top of the man.  He seemed to be mumbling to himself about how he wasn't expecting their first time to be so horrible and still going on about poor endurance. Thomas took quick notice of the fact that Guy-man’s penis was now completely flaccid.  He fucked up so bad. This wasn’t how their first time was supposed to go.

Before, Thomas was completely okay with mutual masturbation.  He was completely okay with rubbing his cock against Guy-man’s while trying desperately (and often failed, but it wasn't exactly his fault) to orgasm together.  He was completely okay with giving and receiving oral.  But when it came to actually having penetrative sex, his embarrassing lack of endurance was going to ruin everything.  This was going to be the end of a great sex life if he couldn’t contain himself.

Giving a rare, soft apology, he squeezed Guy-man's hips gently.  “Listen… Guy-man, I’m s-sorry.”  The man slapped his hands away, grunting.

“Your apology means fuck all. Thanks for ruining our first time.” Guy-man stood up, immediately giving Thomas the cold shoulder and wiping forming tears from his eyes.  He was being passive aggressive, which, despite having the word aggressive in it, was the complete opposite of arousing to Thomas.  At this moment, all he could feel was despair welling up in his gut.  

“Guy-man…”

“Fuck off, I’m going out for a smoke.” he snapped as he picked up his clothes. Thomas could see the tears as they streamed down his cheeks.  Guy-man bunched up his clothes, holding them tightly to his chest, trying to bury his face ashamedly into them.  He let the bathroom door slam shut behind him.


End file.
